On Sportsmanship

A friend of mine was kind enough to throw some last-minute tickets to the Harlem Globetrotters my way. I'm a big fan of cheap and cheesy entertainment, so The Spouse and The Spawn and I braved the most dangerous stretch of Connecticut highway to get ourselves to graffiti-laden Bridgeport, Connecticut (motto: yes, some people actually LIVE there) to catch the show.

I first saw the Harlem Globetrotters back in the 70s when they were quite simply, THE SHIT. Times, they have a-changed, and with videogames and the NBA and the rise of the Jonas Brothers, they're not quite as much of the excrement nowadays. So the whole event had a rather quaint feel, thanks to the iconic whistle-y theme song and an unexpected smattering of vintage Three's Company-style gay jokes.

But the show was surprisingly entertaining, and I was so transported back to my childhood that when I spilled my Diet Pepsi on my lap I almost expected to see it soaking through a pair of styling kelly green polyester pants (hand-sewn from McCall's #4337 pattern).

Amidst the throwaway homophobia, there was some basketball-playing and also some sort of plot about a bet between the coaches, the outcome of which was that if the Globetrotters lost, the Head Trotter (Special K, a nickname that I hope was derived from his love of the cereal and because of any sort of lingering ketamine habit) was going to have to go and play for the hated Generals.

At one point the coach of the Generals got caught cheating, so everybody in the audience was encouraged to razz the Generals coach. In the midst of all the booing, The Boy turns to me, eyes ablaze with delight, and says, "I know what you're supposed to yell, Mommy," and jumps to his feet and screams, "YOOOUUUU SUUUUUCCCCK!" which had the immediate effect of producing a) a spit take followed by b) uncontrollable laughter, even as I knew that I should be delivering a Teaching Moment about politeness and good language and sportsmanship.

The Spouse and The Girl didn't hear a thing because of the crowd noise; they thought I'd completely lost my mind. And of course my laughter encouraged The Boy to shout it a second, third, and fourth time, with each repitition making me laugh until fat tears were washing away all of my mascara.

It was a proud, proud moment.

Click here to read more.